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sh!thawks...on parade: i'm the next act waiting in the wings

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Burnt city embers that glisten in the rain where we set our souls to wander under the gilded gaze of a sun so far removed from the rhythmic marching of drops, its voice a muted howl carried on the breeze that lopes lazily through spires of metal and concrete

This is where our thought ends, sighing on the empty sky full of stars that can be touched with a hand waved to the clouds but never moved, heartbeats of traffic jams that sing songs of closing doors and call out with horns like herds of animals lost and blinded in the light

Ashes like snow falling in our eyes but never reaching the wide open irises that sweep open onto planes of imaginary possibilities that stretch on into an abyss that glows blue with envy at never having the chance to live our real life

Wake up my dear, the city is calling, wake up and stand up over the realm of city that kneels at your feet beyond the window where you can rise with the sun that burns it to the ground and calm the voices carried on the wind

Wake up, my dear, you are home.

i'm the next act waiting in the wings


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